


Almost Starting Over Again

by agoodtuckering



Series: Carving A New Life [4]
Category: The Thick of It (TV)
Genre: Angst, Confessions, Divorce, F/M, Heartache, Mutual Pining, Post-Season/Series 04, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-19
Updated: 2019-11-19
Packaged: 2021-02-13 02:50:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21487120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agoodtuckering/pseuds/agoodtuckering
Summary: A much-needed (phone call) conversation between Malcolm and Nicola, but perhaps it doesn't end the way they both would have liked.
Relationships: Nicola Murray/Malcolm Tucker
Series: Carving A New Life [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1470488
Comments: 13
Kudos: 21





	Almost Starting Over Again

He had tried not to think about all of it. He'd tried to keep her off of his mind. That night wouldn't let him be, though. 

He remembered the look on her face as she tried to find the words to respond to him, when he'd asked if it would have made a difference, if he'd actually been the one to leak Tickle's information or contact him directly. Her honest words refused to leave him. 

_ “As angry as I am with myself for saying this, for feeling this way, no… It wouldn’t really have changed my feelings," she'd said. "But it made it easier, knowing that, knowing that you hadn’t bullied a poor man into killing himself. But I wouldn’t… I wouldn’t care for you any less if that had been the case,” she finally finished. “Is that what you wanted to hear?” _

The words made him ache inside.

Sitting in his office on the weekend, at _ Off The Table's _ Headquarters, he found himself wanting to call her, or send her a text. For weeks he'd battled internally about this. But the feelings just _ wouldn't _pass.

Hell, they had almost _ kissed. _

He had been about to kiss her. He couldn't _ forget _ the way her hip and the rough fabric of her clothing had felt beneath his fingers. He hadn't failed to remember the way she'd elbowed him right in the mouth, either, all in typical Nicola Murray fashion. She was a trainwreck. _ Ridiculous frump. _

Why did he have to care so much? 

He wondered what would have happened if she _ hadn't _ received that call from her daughter. No doubt they would have eventually wound up stumbling up the staircase and right into his bed. _ That thought, _however, was a dangerous one. 

In the weeks that had followed their last meeting, he had seen the news. _ The Daily Mail _ had gotten a hold of an interesting piece of information: _ Nicola's recent divorce. _As quiet as she was obviously trying to keep it, the vampires had still found out. They smelled blood. One way or another, they'd learned.

There was something else, though. The public seemed to be taking Nicola's side on things. _ Hard-working single mum, raising her children _ and _ continuing to work full-time to make money. _It appealed to the public. In this time of need, in Nicola's distress, the public seemed to be on her side. It did something inside of Malcolm, just knowing that. 

It does something to him. Perhaps it was a tiny shred of leftover pride, or perhaps it was something more. He didn't dare to think too long or hard about it. 

Another week or so passed before he decided to call her. It was Saturday evening, so he knew she’d be home. Or at least he hoped she’d be.

"Hello?" she answered, the line crackling a bit, as if she had poor service. No doubt she still remembered his number. 

He cleared his throat softly before asking, "Nic'la? It's me, Malcolm." He felt stiff and sharp around the edges. Still, though, he tried to soften his voice just for her. _ Awkward. _

"I know," she replied softly, as if she didn't want others to know that she was on her phone. "As if I could ever forget your number. You’ve called me more times than my hus… ex-husband has."

He wanted to chuckle at that but the sound suddenly caught in his throat. _ Fuck this, _he immediately thought. "I dinnae know why I called,” he said abruptly. “Ye asked me to."

His accent. She noted its thickness, knowing that he must have been feeling out of his depth and all-too-awkward and uncomfortable. She took no pity on him. Sympathy, perhaps, but no pity. She replied, "That was over a month ago. You're a little late."

He sighed softly. "Better late than never, though, ae?"

There was a soft voice in the background, her youngest daughter, no doubt. She said something that came across as mumbling. It was punctuated by a soft, “I love you, mum.” Something in his heart twisted violently at Nicola’s tender, gentle, “I love you too, sweetheart. Goodnight. Sweet dreams, okay? See you in the morning.” 

His fondness for her, his _ affection _ for her only grew. How was that possible? Even now, even after everything, he found himself _ caring. _Had he gone completely insane? 

“Sorry,” she said after a moment. “My youngest was going to bed.” 

His throat felt tight for a moment. He couldn’t even speak. Why, he didn’t understand. Perhaps because he’d always wanted a family, even if he hadn’t admitted it to anyone but himself and his sister. He’d lost his wife. They never had the chance to have any children of their own, and that had squashed any hopes of another life that he’d ever had. 

“It’s okay,” he finally said. “I’m sorry if I called at a bad time.” 

Another beat, this one accompanied by the shuffling of papers. She was probably preparing a speech of some sort for one thing or another, or just signing off on papers that had piled up at the end of the week. 

Then there was silence. 

“What are we doing, Malcolm?”

Her question was honest enough, he thought. He was as confused as she was, no doubt, and to make matters worse, he had no answers for her. He wasn’t even sure how to respond at first. 

“I dinnae know,” he said honestly, accent inexplicably thicker now. Honesty always did that to him. 

“We’ve ruined each other’s lives,” she said, pushing on. There was bravery there in her voice and he admired that. She wasn’t backing down, despite whatever fears were on her mind. Funny because she had never been able to be this way in a professional setting. But now? Apparently so. It wasn’t so different, so why did she struggle? 

“The ink hasn’t even fucking dried on my divorce papers yet,” she said. “And the worst part? I don’t care at all, Malcolm. I don’t care. Why are we in this mess in the first place? We should hate each other. You nearly ruined my career, more than once, and I effectively sent you to prison. We should hate each other.” 

He was silent for a moment, then, “Yeah, we should.” 

_ But we don’t. _The implication was clear. The words they weren’t saying were still there, nonetheless. 

“I’m fuckin’ tired of hating the world. I’m tired of fighting against everyone and everything. I’d like to think those days are behind me. I’ve carved out a new life for me now. Politics are behind me. As ridiculous as it fuckin’ sounds, I’m happier now,” he told her, honestly. “Yer in a better place too. I can see that. And I’m… glad ye are.”

He seemed so afraid to open up, not that she blamed him. She was too. It was as raw and vulnerable as she had ever heard him. She couldn’t kick him in the teeth now. She knew she couldn’t do that to him. She sighed softly, lost in thought for a moment. 

“I was fully prepared to never talk about it,” she began to say. Whether she was referring to the almost-kiss or that entire day in general, he had no idea. She continued, “I wasn’t going to say anything. When you didn’t call, I figured you wanted to forget about it as well. And now here you are, fucking bleeding all over the phone for me and spilling your guts for me. I’m not sure what I should be saying. I’m afraid... If this is all some kind of sick joke…” 

He was staring at the muted telly, not really _ looking _at it but watching the blurred images all the same. He slipped his glasses off his nose and rubbed at his eyes, inwardly groaning. 

“I’m no joking with ye,” he said quietly. “I promise ye that, Nic’la. Lost my humor fuckin' ages ago."

She made a sound, as if she’d dropped something and it startled her. Then she relaxed again and sighed long and low. 

“Let me ask you something,” she went on to say. “You ask me if it would have made a difference, whatever your answer would have been. You asked me that. Let me turn it around on you. Does it make a difference at all, knowing that I was at your trial? Knowing what I did, and what I said? Would you feel any other way, about whatever the fuck this is between us, if I had or hadn’t done anything differently?” 

His answer was sure. “No,” he told her. “I wouldnae feel differently.” 

She seemed to mull over his words for a moment. “Then we seem to be in quite a predicament, don’t we, Malcolm? We have no morals to speak of, either. There seems to be that as well.” There was a soft sigh. “I want to do something _ for me _ for once. I want to _ want _something and actually go for it. I want to be brave. I think, maybe, just maybe, you do too. You sound tired, and I don’t just mean in the literal sense.”

When he said nothing she only continued, voicing her thoughts.

"What if the papers got wind of this? My _ former _ Director of Communications and Special Adviser, who has just recently gotten out of prison, seen out with me, still a Minister, in public? How would that look? Especially after I've just gotten a divorce? This could wreck me. _ For good." _

He didn't want that to be the end result. He didn't.

"I've done enough to yer career," he finally said, as if the very words pained him. "Let's just… say goodnight and go."

_ He was saying goodbye. _The realization terrified her and she immediately began to panic.

"Malcolm, wait. That was not what I meant," she hurried to say. But he was already backing away. He replied, "I'm fuckin' sorry, Nic'la. Ye deserve some peace. It's alright. We just have bad timing is all. See ye around."

She choked out, "Please don't go. Don't you dare hang up this phone." But he'd already hung up. Too late. 

She sat there for god knew how long and stared at the device in her hands. Ringing him back would be futile, she knew. He wouldn't have answered. So that was it, then. It was over before it ever really began.

Maybe in another life they would have had better timing.

**Author's Note:**

> Don't worry, more is on the way soon.


End file.
